Metamorphosis to the Dark
by TheDominatrixIrene
Summary: The summer of his sixth year, Harry rejects Dumbledore's ways, starts hanging out with the Slytherins, receives love letters from a secret admirer and all the while, there is a new student at Hogwarts! What exactly is going on? Manipulative!Dumbledore, Dark!Harry, Slash! T for now, subject to change.
1. Prologue: Music of the Night

_Metamorphosis to the Dark_

**Pairings:** HP/LV, HP/TR, FW/DM/GW, SS/LM, HG/O.C.

**SUMMARY: **The summer of his sixth year, Harry rejects Dumbledore's ways, starts hanging out with the Slytherins, receives love letters from a secret admirer and all the while, there is a new student at Hogwarts! What exactly is going on? Manipulative!Dumbledore, Dark!Harry, Slash!

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is made. This is an endeavor for fun. No infringement is intended.

**AN: **Hey… Sorry about being AWOL on O.A. My Muse has been breeding plot bunnies but none are for O.A.! Agh! So, hopefully this will turn out better. Oh, and if anybody knows how to write parodies, could you help, as its my project for AP English…

So! This is my first try at a HP FF, and a slash one no less! Anyhow, I hope this turns out well! **CONSTRUCTIVE** Criticism is welcomed, and **NO FLAMES**. Other than that, enjoy!

**METAMORPHOSIS: noun. **

**a profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism**

**a complete change of form as transformation by Magic or Witchcraft**

**Any complete change in appearance, character, etc.**

**a form resulting from any change**

_Prologue: The Music of the Night_

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your Darkest Dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Let your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before."_

_-Gerard Butler, "The Music of the Night", _Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera

Harry was fed up with it all. Voldemort was back, Sirius was dead, he was a reluctant savior, everyone loved/hated him, and Dumbledore, his supposed "hero", did nothing to help.

To hell with it all!

Being isolated from everyone gave him a time to think. To rethink all he had ever heard about the war.

Harry did not truly have his own opinion on the war. His opinions had all been molded by what others had told him. Harry himself saw no reason to care about the war; in fact, he wanted nothing to do with it. The wizards could take care of themselves.

He was famous because his parents were murdered and he lived; how sick was that? And just because he lived, the Wizarding World expected him to save them from the monster they created.

So why should Harry care? _Because Voldemort killed my parents?_ Not much of a loss, as Harry never knew them; he did not even know if they were good parents, good people. All he had was the word of mouth, and not even a credible mouth.

Any yet, they expected him to risk his life on a half-hearted vendetta against the most evil wizard in history?

Forget that.

Voldemort may have killed his parents, but it was _Dumbledore_ who placed him with the Dursleys while Sirius was still free. It was all because of _him_.

Wankers, all of them!

And when he tells the world that Voldemort is back, they call him a liar and crazy! Harry did_ not_ like having his honor questioned.

But fine; he could play that game.

They would come to him, pleading for salvation from their Frankenstein monster. And when they came to him for help, he would take great pleasure in laughing his arse off at them and saying what he had been unable to say for his entire life:

_No._

_And what of Ron and Hermione?_ a voice in his mind whispered.

What of them, indeed. Ron was a lost cause that much was certain. He was biased and too close to Dumbledore for his liking. Harry could not believe that he had been so stupid to have seen Ron as a role model.

He must have been insane. _Or compelled to do so . . ._

Hermione still retained value, even if she was a bossy know-it-all. He would reserve judgment on her.

The twins were a must. After all, he held them in his hands. He was their benefactor—without him, they could kiss their joke shop goodbye. Besides they were open-minded. They would at least _listen_.

But how to show that he was done being the Golden Boy, a pawn for Dumbledore and the Ministry?

Harry sat up from his bed and checked the time. 1: 17 a.m.

He stood up to stretch his muscles and watched his reflection in a mirror. He took a good look at his clothes and appearance.

No, this would not do at all.

A change in looks was in order, and he could go to Gringotts to get his money and buy new robes and maybe even convert them to pounds and buy Muggle clothes.

A change in guardians was also in order. Sirius was out of the running, dead or not—he had still been wanted.

But his mother's only relative is Petunia and he was the last Potter. . .

Wait, that is it! He was the last Potter, his PATERNAL grandmother had been a Black by birth—Dorea Potter nee Black! He could very well have magical relatives after all. He was sure the Sirius mentioned at least two . . . and yet again, Dumbledore never told him.

It was settled. A trip to Diagon Alley was in order.

When Harry arrived in Diagon Alley, via the Leaky Cauldron, he was swarmed by ardent admirers.

_Where were they when I needed them last year? _He thought bitterly.

He made his way through the throng of people, heading for Gringotts. He accessed his vault easily enough and went shopping for robes. He also went into a remedies shop and after an assessment, they deduced that they could fix his eyesight if he agreed to a strict regiment of potions for a month; Harry readily agreed. He later made his way to the Magical Historical Society to research his family tree. Sirius had owned one but Harry swore never to set foot in Grimmauld place again.

What he found shocked him to no end, and yet it all made sense.

He had decided to do a specialised blood test that would draw his family tree spawning generations back. From his father's side, from his grandmother, he was second cousins to Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black.

On Harry's _maternal_ side, he was the great-great-great grandson of a squib by the name of Magnolia Murphy.

Magnolia Murphy had two daughters, Melantha and Marigold. Marigold had married Patrick O'Connell, a Muggle. They had Iris O'Connell and she married Rupert Stevens. Their daughter was Azalea Stevens, who married Mark Evans, and their daughters were Petunia and Lily.

This was interesting and all, but Harry was more concerned with Melantha, Marigold's pureblood witch sister. According to records, Melantha had married her cousin, Marvolo Gaunt (which reminded Harry of Sirius' parents, who were also cousins). Melantha had presented Marvolo with two children before her death: Morfin and Merope. Morfin had died childless but Merope had married a Muggle by the name of Tom Riddle and she had a son . . . one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry was the Dark Lord's distant cousin.

Well, shit. How interesting. He was the only living relative to the Dark Lord. He could work that to his advantage somehow. He also noticed that from his father he was the descendant to one Ignotus Peverell and from his mother he was the descendant of one Cadmus Peverell. He would do more research on them later as Cadmus Peverell also linked him to Voldemort.

Harry took a copy of the tree and left Diagon Alley to return to the Muggle World. It was useless to try to petition Narcissa or Bellatrix for his custody but he had learned so much more. Once in Muggle London, he went shopping for clothes that would give him a look. He did not know what 'look' he would be classified under, but his guess was somewhere under 'Rocker/Rebel.'

Harry smirked as he went to the Dursleys.

Come September, he would be a different Harry Potter.

On a sudden impulse, he began to sing softly the lyrics to a song that he never heard but seemed to know.

Therefore, his heart sang along to the music of the night.

**AN: So… how was it? Honest reviews, I can take it, I'm a big girl…. :) **


	2. Chapter 1: Stop the World

_Metamorphosis to the Dark_

**Pairings:** HP/LV, HP/TR, FW/DM/GW, SS/LM, HG/OC, HP/NR?

**SUMMARY: **The summer of his sixth year, Harry rejects Dumbledore's ways, starts hanging out with the Slytherins, receives love letters from a secret admirer and all the while, there is a new student at Hogwarts! What exactly is going on? Manipulative!Dumbledore, Dark!Harry, Slash!

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is made. This is an endeavor for fun. No infringement is intended.

**ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER:** I do _**NOT**_ own the character Natalia Alianovna Romanova. She is the property of Marvel Comics.

For those who know who she is *cough*the Avengers*cough* , I just could not resist. She is the bomb! She has a reason for being here, even though I have tweaked with her to go with the story, but she is still her badass self.

**AN: **Chapter 1, woo-hoo! Hahaha, I hope this turned out well. And so, our story truly begins. Oh, goodie! Kudos to Aly, for helping me out and for the starling review… :) Best, Beta ever!

**Chapter 1: Stop the World**

"_I don't know why,_

_I don't know why,_

_I'm so afraid (I'm so afraid)._

_I don't know how,_

_I don't know how,_

_To fix the pain (to fix the pain)._

_We're living a lie,_

_Living a lie,_

_This needs to change (this needs to change)._

_We're out of time,_

_We're out of time,_

_And it's still the same._

_We can't Stop the World,_

_But there's so much more that we can do . . ._

_. . . You said, "nobody has to know_

_Give us time to grow_

_And take it slow."_

_But I'd Stop the World,_

_If they'd finally let us be alone,_

_Let us be Alone . . ."_

—Demi Lovato, "Stop the World"

Natalia Romanova stood beside Theodore Nott Jr. on Platform 9 and ¾. She was not happy about the arrangement, but she knew her assignment. As for Theo, he would befriend the Chosen One and get him closer to the Slytherins, and _He_ would be working him from the other side.

Harry Potter was a lucky boy.

She just hated that she had to go back to school; she had loathed it the first time around.

She was older than Hogwarts age (much, **MUCH** older) but her employer had worked his magic, literally, and behold, she was sixteen . . . Again.

Joy.

"Where is he?" Natalia asked calmly, but Theo flinched at her flat tone. He knew perfectly well who she was and her profession. Should he cross her, he'd be next on her personal shit list.

"Potter usually arrives alone, Madame Romanova," Theo whispered for fear of being overheard. Though she was a Muggle posing as a witch (magic courteously temporarily donated from the Dark Lord himself), he feared what she could do to him as his Lord had given her a carte blanche should a Death Eater cross her, as long as they were not of the Inner Circle.

"Note how that does not answer my question, Mister Nott." Natalia enjoyed the way Theo flinched under her voice.

"I am not close to Potter, Madame Romanova. We never speak to one another. The only Slytherin Potter talks to is Draco and even then it is to exchange verbal barbs."

"And yet Draco sought Potter's friendship your first year. Or was that the political manipulation of an eleven year old?"

Theo raised his eyebrows. He didn't know that; he didn't even know how to respond. He decided to hold on to that piece of information. He was a Slytherin; he knew how to use things to his advantage.

Natalia watched the entrance to the platform with lazy interest. To the untrained eye, she looked bored out of her mind. But Theo knew better; she never let her guard down. She was hyper-aware of her surroundings.

She had to be to survive in her profession.

Natalia raised her eyebrows and leered at a boy—no, man—as he entered the platform. He had messy "I-just-got-shagged-within-an-inch-of-my-life" hair; clear, potent Killing-Curse green eyes framed by dark, thick, delicate eyelashes; a lopsided smile; a Muggle leather jacket; a tight black tee shirt; Muggle shoes—Vans?; and tight Muggle skinny jeans held to his waist by a silver studded belt. He carried a trunk and a snowy owl.

Natalia's jaw actually dropped when she saw the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. _Well I'll be damned . . ._

"Is that—Potter?" Theo asked incredulously. He almost didn't recognize Potter without his glasses, let alone in his new, sexy Muggle clothes.

Natalia smirked lecherously as she nodded. "Your Lord has excellent taste," she murmured, watching Potter under hooded eyes as he put his things on the train while effectively avoiding his 'friends.' "Shame he's not fond of sharing. Anyway, he's going to want to hear about this change from one of us. And soon. Potter's attracting attention."

Theo looked over and saw that Potter was receiving _looks_ from both sexes. _Oh, boy._

"You remember your role and my cover story?" Natalia asked seriously. "I will not have you messing me up."

"Of course, I'm no measly spider." Theo teased.

Natalia rolled her eyes at Theo. "Watch it or when you wake up tomorrow morning, you'll be chained underwater, without your wand." She did not bother looking back as she left him.

She already knew what his reaction was.

Harry had a hard time controlling his laughter and his smug smirk. The looks on all of their faces! Classic. He imagined that his new look was going to be the cover of _Witch Weekly _and _The Daily Prophet._

He had avoided the Weasleys and Hermione like the plague. He didn't want to deal with them now. He would probably hex them the moment they tried to ask him a question.

He sighed and looked for an empty compartment, or at least, one with someone who he did not know and vice versa.

He found such a compartment near the end of the train. He peered in to see who was in there.

Inside was a lone girl, roughly his age, in Muggle clothing. She had vibrant, blood red hair that was wavy and framed her fair face. She had crystal, sapphire blue eyes. A pair of spider earrings hung from her ears and she wore light make-up. Her eyes were fixated on a book in . . . Was that Russian?

Harry knocked on the compartment door before sliding it open. "Err, hullo." The girl's head snapped up and widened at seeing him there; her eyes did not flash with recognition so he could assume it was not because he was Harry-Bloody-Potter, but because he was a stranger. "May I sit here?"

She appraised him with curiosity. "Yes, you may." She closed her book and motioned for him to sit across from her.

Harry smiled in thanks and sat across from the girl. She really was pretty and she did not know he was famous; that make her okay in his book. He settled himself in. "Thanks. I'm Harry." He held his hand out.

The girl looked him in the eye before giving a small smile—or was it a smirk? Harry could not tell. She grasped his hand and Harry took inspection of it; you could tell a lot about a person by how they took care of themselves. She had long, slender, spidery fingers with perfectly manicured nails. They were painted black with red spiders. Her palm was smooth and yet strangely calloused, as if she was used to handling tough materials and hanging from high places.

"Wonderful to meet you, Harry, I'm Natasha." When she spoke, she did not speak with a British accent or certain dialect though Harry could hear a faint accent, from where, he was not sure.

"No last name to go with that?" Harry teased as he shook her hand.

"You didn't give me yours."

"Point taken. Potter."

"Romanoff."

"I'm placing my money on a Russian nationality."

Natasha smiled. "What gave me away?"

"Uh, that would be your last name and the book in Russian," Harry deadpanned.

Natasha let out a hearty laugh. "You got me there. Yes, I hail from Russia. My town used to be called Stalingrad—it's called Volgograd now."

"Wow. No offense, but why are you here on the Hogwarts Express? If you're magic and hail from Russia, shouldn't you be attending Durmstrang?" Harry asked with plain curiosity.

"Durmstrang only admits purebloods. My parents died in a fire when I was young and I was raised in a orphanage with other girls; we were always in a Red Room. Therefore, when I turned eleven, I was unable to attend since they thought I was a Muggleborn. Since I had no one, the Russian Ministry of Magic gave me enough money to buy books for self-study. So, since then, I have been on my own. This summer, I had finally saved up enough Muggle money from my job to hire a private investigator in the Wizarding World. It turns out that my mother was a British pureblood witch while my father was just a Russian Muggle. I tracked down her family tree and found my blood relatives. They're kind of peeved that I'm a half-blood but family is family."

Harry whistled. That was quite a story. "So, now you can attend Hogwarts because your mother was a British witch?"

"Correct."

"So, who are you related to?" Harry asked, wracking his brains trying to figure out which pureblood line she was from.

"My mother's line is Renner, but they're extinct in the male now. My mother's sister, Theodora, is my only relative. She's Theodora Nott now."

"Nott?"

"Yes. I have a cousin my age, Theodore?"

Harry struggled to remember. "Is he in Slytherin?"

"He is, but he's really nice."

Harry said nothing but nodded. He did not know Theodore, so he could not judge him. "If he's your cousin, why are you here instead of with the other Slytherins?"

"Peace." She said it so simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Some Slytherins don't take a liking to half-bloods much, despite my pureblood mother, and I'd rather not deal with them. Anyway, I _like_ being alone. I feel like I'm acting when I'm around other people."

"I feel ya," Harry muttered under his breath, but Natasha still heard him. "I've been on display since I entered the Wizarding World at eleven. They all expect me to save them."

"Typical Frankensteinian action," Natasha scoffed. Upon Harry's blank look, Natasha elaborated. "Villains aren't born, Harry, no matter how hard people argue that they are born evil; villains are made. Something drives them to _become_ villains. For Hitler, it was World War I and his rejection from a Jewish operated art school; for Lenin, it was the poverty he lived through under the Romanov regime; for Castro, it was America's interference in Cuban affairs and America's preference to assist Europe, rather than the Americas. We create our own enemies, our own villains. I am willing to bet that the Dark Lord you have is the result of the neglect of the Wizarding World. He hates Muggles, right? What if Muggles hurt him as a child and he grew to hate them for the pain they caused him? Moreover, what if he sought help in the Wizarding World but no one helped him; no one cared about him? The British Wizarding government is . . . biased, favoring the Light. If he was if a Dark affinity, the government would not have given a damn. Don't you see, Harry? The British Wizarding community created their own Frankenstein monster, they are not taking responsibility for him, and they are inept at handling him! They need a Van Helsing of sorts to defeat him—you, sadly enough. That should tell you about the incompetence of the government—they rely on a child to solve their problems. Pathetic," Natasha spat out.

Harry stared with eyes wide in awe at Natasha after her rant. She was absolutely right! After all, wasn't he himself turning Dark because of what the Dursleys and Dumbledore did to him? He sought help in the Muggle world and received none—his teachers would not believe him; he sought help in the Magical World in the form of Dumbledore and had received none—even if he went to some one else, it didn't matter as all of Britain is under Dumbledore's thumb. Natasha was right.

"Of course I'm right. I'm not just a pretty face."

It took Harry a moment to realize that he had said his internal monologue aloud. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it." Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. Then she smirked. "So, the Chosen One is going Dark? Cool, you're flipping the bird to the world who tried to mold you into a weapon. I approve. Civil Disobedience does wonders. I have to say, I love your look."

Harry chuckled. "Thanks." He paused. "Natasha, what do I do then? I don't know why I'm so afraid, but I am. There is no guarantee that if I go Neutral in the war that Voldemort won't still come after me, even if I some how manage to set up a non-hostile agreement with him. I don't know how to fix the pain and damage others have done to me. I've been living the lie they've forced upon me. This needs to change!"

Natasha began to applaud lightly. "I completely agree, Harry. Nevertheless, if you are going to do something, do it this year. I have a feeling that you are running out of time and yet we are still the same—inept to fight the Dark Lord."

"Why can't the world come with a 'STOP' button to make this all end?" Harry moaned.

"Well, we can't stop the world—trust me, I've looked into the science and it is scientifically impossible—but there is so much more that we can do! We can _change_ it! And no one has to know that we did it, if you wish it. You just need some time to grow and take it slow. These are our teen years! You are supposed to be enjoying yourself, not worrying about an adult war that has nothing to do with you."

"Yeah . . ." Harry trailed off lost in thought. "Want to be my accomplice in all this?"

"What, turning Dark, pissing off the Light and the Ministry, and gaining immunity from Voldemort himself in order to save your life? . . . Sure, why not? I have nothing to lose."

"Why would I be getting the Light and Ministry drunk?" Harry asked confused.

"What—" Natasha started to say before she reviewed her words. "Oh! Harry, that's Muggle slang for 'angry'."

"Really? I'm more disconnected from the Muggle world than I realized. Wow . . ." Harry looked out the window. "Wow, we're already close to Hogwarts! Time flew by!"

"Time flies when you're having fun," Natasha muttered dryly.

Harry cracked a smile. "I like you Natasha. You don't judge."

"It would be very hypocritical of me to judge others for the things they do and the choices they make."

"You never said, how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen come December."

"Oh, so we'll be seeing each other in class! What House do you expected to be Sorted in?"

"Harry, I'm sly and I'm Russian."

"Slytherin?"

"One would assume so."

"Oh."

Natasha's brow furrowed in worry. "Will you still be my friend even if I'm Sorted into Slytherin?"

Harry looked shocked and offended. "Of course! You are the only one who knows all of what I told you! You're the only one I can truly call a friend at this point."

"And what of your House mates?"

"Screw 'em. One day, they love me; the next, they hate my guts. I could care less."

Natasha smiled. _How convenient_. Her smile dropped. "Harry, if you do manage to strike an immunity deal with Voldemort, you do realize he will expect something in return."

"He's a Slytherin; I wouldn't put it above him."

"Are you prepared for it? He holds your life in his hands. He could ask you for _anything_," she emphasized.

"I'll be ready for it."

Natasha only looked on sadly.

The two got dressed together (Natasha could have cared less if they saw each other nearly nude: "We'll see the other sex like this sooner or later. Anyway, you've seen the boys from your dorm naked!" she said as she stripped down to her bra and panties despite Harry's burning face.). When the train stopped, Harry asked a question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind.

"Hey Natasha, what's with the spider nails?"

Natasha laughed. "It has significance to me, like a tattoo would. Actually, I have a tattoo."

"You do?"

"You didn't see it?"

"I was trying not to look."

Natasha chuckled at Harry's embarrassment.

"So what kind of spider is it?"

Natasha gave a malicious Cheshire grin. "This, my dear Harry, is a Black Widow."

**AN: Chapter 1 is over! Did anyone catch my hint about Natasha? Oh, and for those who haven't made the connection, we'll be seeing more of Natalia . . . Cookies to anyone who did, though! I made it kind of obvious when I gave her back story (sort of)… Kudos to Wikipedia for the info!**

**I'm asking for a minimum of at least 10 review until the next chapter!**


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